Chapter 24 Sloane
SLOANE
Over the last few weeks, I’ve been doing my research on shelters and shelter animals.
Mocha came into my life like a flurry of brown hair and craziness, but I love him. I want other animals like him to be able to find their forever families, and while they are at shelters, I want them to be able to be provided for, to help, and to give back to them.
So I found a few places around my area that are privately owned, people just saving animals out of the goodness of their hearts. I’ve reached out to them to see what I can do to help out.
I’m calling it The Lost Bean Project. I haven’t announced it on social media or anything yet, but I think I’ve found my purpose.
I created a website with links to each of the shelters that I’ve reached out to, and a place for people to recommend shelters so that I can reach out and maybe add them to my list. I want to be able to provide stuff for shelters all over the nation.
The links go straight to the shelters’ websites. I get none of the profits; everything goes to the animals.
I don’t need to gain anything from this; I just want to help more babies like the one that is lying on my lap.
My summer has already gotten really busy because of this. I want to be able to volunteer at the shelters, help take pictures of the animals, and help them find their families by posting, and maybe even help run the social media.
It’s a lot of work, but I want to make a difference. And this is the way I know how to right now.
Sammy, the owner of Happy Paws, was telling me about some of the stories of how she got some of the pups and other animals that she houses. To say they are heartbreaking doesn’t even do it justice.
Some of those poor babies are scared of their own shadows because of how poorly they were treated. We cried together, and we laughed together.
She called me this morning, bawling because the pallets of supplies I ordered were delivered from PetCo.
I kiss Mocha on the top of the head. I’ve had him for almost a month now. He looks significantly better than the day I found him. The patches of skin that were showing have had hair start to grow, and he’s a healthy weight now.
I have no idea what he went through before I found him, and I will probably never know, but I’m so glad that he found his way into my life.
My life never seems to slow down.
Emails. Posting. Analytics.
Those three things play on repeat twenty-four hours a day.
What brands do I want to work with?
What brands have I previously worked with, and what content do I still have to produce for them?
Am I posting too much? Do the people want more?
Are the people staying engaged in my content? Am I gaining more followers than I’m losing? Is the content relatable?
And now I manage Mocha’s account, too, which really isn’t hard. Mocha is so fucking cute that everyone just loves him and his story.
Plus, he has no idea what’s going on, so for him it doesn’t really matter how many likes or views his videos get; he’s just happy to be here. He is honestly the best kind of client; he’s not picky, he works for free, and he’s very easy to please since he just requires a few treats for his time.
I scroll through my camera roll and look through all the photos that I’ve taken this summer, all the ones of Beck and me that I can’t post. The ones that make me smile, the ones that make me a little too excited. He’s everywhere and nowhere at the same time.
If only you were mine, Beckett Hayes, then I’d post you for everyone to see.
I wonder how he feels about all this. I’m sure that it must be hard for him, at least to a certain degree. There are a lot of factors against us, and I’m sure that he thinks about them all the time. I know I do, not as much as I did at the beginning, but they are still there.
I’m his best friend’s daughter.
I’m half his age.
Most people in the community would frown at the kind of relationship that we have developed.
Looking at it from an outside perspective, I can see what everyone would maybe see.
Rumors will fly, people will speculate about us, and about how long this has been going on for. They’ll forget the fact that we are two consenting adults, and that it’s none of their business.
He’s never made me do anything that I’m uncomfortable with.
He never once made me feel weird when I was a kid or when I was a teenager.
But they don’t know that, and they won’t care, either.
One of us will be the bad guy, and I know that he probably doesn’t care too much about his reputation, but he is still a very respected person in our community.
The last thing I want to do is to make him lose that credibility because of me.
I know he struggles. I know that just because I don’t like Briar doesn't mean that he has to just throw away a lifetime of friendship for me. Much like Kaden, I’m sure he’s struggling to come to terms with some of the things I’ve told him, too.
I know that it would just be better if I stepped away before I force him away from his best friend.
I know all of these things. Yet, I can’t seem to stay away.
Maybe I am grasping at straws, trying to hang onto something that is too good to be true. Maybe I want something that I’ve never had before.
I want him.
But mostly, I just want him to want me, too.
“Hey, can we talk?” he asks, knocking on my door and gently pushing it open.
I’m sitting in my room, my laptop open as I finish the last-minute edits on next week’s KoVi video. Mocha lies next to me, sound asleep.
“Yeah, what’s up?” I ask, closing my laptop and fixing the way I’m sitting on my bed.
He looks nervous as he steps into the room and sits down on the edge of my bed. He’s close enough that I could touch him if I really wanted to, but we’re far enough apart that I couldn’t unless I reached out.
“I’ve been thinking a lot recently.” My heart starts to beat rapidly in my chest, and the look on his face makes me think that maybe this won’t be a good conversation.
I suddenly feel nervous. I can’t answer him with words, so I just nod my head.
“About us, about this, and everything else that’s been going on since you moved in. ”
He gestures to the space between us. I’m not sure how to react; my throat is dry, my palms are sweaty.
“I don’t know what this is, and I don’t know how we should continue.”
“Oh…”
“Fuck, no…I’m not good with words.” He stumbles over his sentence. I can’t figure out if he’s trying to break up with me or not.
“It’s fine, I get it. You don’t want to do this anymore.”
“What? No, that’s not what I’m saying at all. Quite the opposite. It’s just…Look, you leave in a month.” He doesn’t look at me, and I watch him take a slow, deep breath. “You leave in a month, and I don’t know what that means for us when you do. Because I do want to keep doing this…with you.”
I pause. This is not how I was expecting this conversation to go. I didn’t think that it would go this way at all.
“You what?”
“I want to be with you.”
I stare at him for a long time. I’m pretty sure that my jaw is on the floor as well. Because what does he mean that he wants to be with me?
“No, you don’t,” I say, shaking my head and standing up. I’m about four seconds away from a huge crash out.
Now that he’s said the words, I have to accept them. And when I accept them, I will just get more attached to him than I already am, and that’s not a good thing.
What good could possibly come from this?
I will never be good enough for him. This isn’t what he wants. He just needs to get out there and explore his options. I am not a good fit for him.
He grabs me and presses his lips to mine.
It instantly shuts off the voices in my head. His big hands cup my face, and he kisses me like I’m worth something. Like I matter to him.
My hands come up and latch onto his wrists. I hold him there, and I kiss him back.
He pulls away and rests our foreheads together. “If you don’t want this, say it.”
I can’t say anything. All I can think about is how I want him to kiss me again. How I want to feel him against me.
“I’m not good,” I whisper.
“You are good, baby. You are so fucking good.”
He kisses my forehead and looks into my eyes. His pupils are dilated, and his stare is so intense that it almost makes me want to believe him.
“Please let me show you how good we can be,” he whispers, his eyes holding mine as his thumbs gently brush against my cheeks.
“But…but what about everything?”
“We’ll figure it all out later, right now I just want to be with my girl.”
“Your girl?” I whisper, a small smile finding its way onto my face.
“My girl,” He confirms, pressing us together.
“I like the way that sounds,” I whisper as he follows me down onto the comfy mattress.
“So do I.”
His lips find mine again in a soft, tender kiss. One that shows me that he is in this just as much as I am.
The moment starts to get heated until Mocha lets out a little bark and licks up the side of our faces, making us both laugh.
“Come here, you little fur ball,” Beckett says, rolling off me, pulling me into his side, and Mocha on top of us. I rest my head on his shoulder and drape my leg over his hips.
“Please don’t go,” I whisper.
“I won’t, baby, I’m yours.” He kisses the top of my head, and I melt into him. Maybe, just maybe, this one will stay.